Different Worlds
by PerfectlyPuzzled
Summary: Skyrim/Romeo and Juliet AU. Takes place after the Dragon Crisis. The dragonborn, a Breton mage by the name of Viola, is forced into an arranged marriage to Hadvar in order to keep Whiterun out of the civil war. But she does not love him. Instead, she meets a tall, dark, and handsome warrior by the name of Vilkas, and the two fall in love.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hello! I know I've abandoned yet another story, I'm really bad at this, but this one I promised a few friends I'd try to see through to the end. While watching Shakespeare in Love, I had an idea for a Skyrim AU under the plot of Romeo and Juliet. Of course, I had to tweak some details a bit, because I didn't want any major characters to die in order to stay SOMEWHAT true to Skyrim canon. This takes place after the Dragon Crisis. The dragonborn, a Breton mage by the name of Viola, is forced into an arranged marriage to Hadvar in order to keep Whiterun out of the civil war. But she does not love him. Instead, she meets a tall, dark, and handsome warrior by the name of Vilkas, and the two slowly fall in love. How will the two prevail when she is promised to another? Vilkas x Fem!Dragonborn_

* * *

Whiterun was never a quiet city. Even after the Dragon Crisis was over, the Civil War between the Imperial Legion and the Stormcloak Rebellion continued to rage on, and Whiterun was in turmoil. Two long-standing clans: the Battle-Borns and the Gray-Manes, had been feuding since the war began. Once great friends, the two clans picked their sides along with the rest of Skyrim: The Legion and the Stormcloaks respectively. Every citizen of Whiterun was affected by the feud—even travelers were involved. When a Battle-Born and a Gray-Mane ran into each other, the situation quickly got out of hand.

It was a noisy morning in Whiterun. The marketplace was crowded with citizens, merchants, and travelers of all walks of life. Avulstein Gray-Mane had stopped by his mother's stall that morning to check up on her when an unwelcome visitor approached.

"Still trying to push this second-rate junk, Fralia?" There was a laugh, and Fralia and Avulstein turned around to face Idolaf Battle-Born who returned their gaze with a smug grin.

"Second-rate?" Avulstein scoffed. He crossed his arms at the other Nord in defiance. "My father Eorland is the greatest blacksmith in all of Whiterun. This jewelry is top of the line."

"Top of the line for milk-drinkers and criminal scum."

Avulstein's nostrils flared, and his hand reflexively reached for his sword. Idolaf sneered at the other man, noticing his new stance.

"Now, Avulstein," Fralia interjected. The woman was clearly distraught. She didn't care much for violence, and both of her sons had a bad tendency for getting themselves into trouble. Thankfully, Thorald was over at Skyforge with his father.

Unfortunately, Avulstein was perfectly capable of getting into trouble even in his brother's absence.

Avulstein clenched his jaw as he thought about his next move. Finally, he moved his sword hand, kissed his mother on the cheek, and turned to walk away.

"Look at that, folks," Idolaf heckled. "Just another cowardly criminal-supporter, running away scared. You are a blight on our fine Empire, just like the murderers you sympathize with."

Idolaf was so busy entertaining the crowd that he didn't react in time to prevent Avulstein's strong right hook from making contact with his jaw and sending him to the dirt. Wiping new blood from his lip, Idolaf got up.

All Hell broke loose.

* * *

It didn't take long for Idolaf's and Avulstein's clansmen to join in on the chaos as a full-on brawl broke out. Any civilian who couldn't get out of the way in time were forcibly dragged into the fight. Those who escaped to a safe distance either retreated to their homes or inn rooms or stayed to watch. Insults were hurled in different tongues, and blood was shed. Thankfully, none of the brawlers had drawn their swords yet, so any bloodshed was caused by brute fists.

After nearly twenty minutes, the riot was forced to an end by the town guards, who had come riding in on horses, blowing on their horns to clear the area for the entrance of the Jarl. On a horse of his own, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater stood before the brawlers who had quickly ended their fight and attempted to act casual.

"That is enough," bellowed the Jarl, his tone dangerous. "Battle-Born, Gray-Mane, front and center!"

Sheepishly, Idolaf and Avulstein emerged from the pack, both of them equally bruised and bloody. They shot an icy glare at one another and then bowed their heads to their ruler.

"I will have no more fighting in my hold, do you understand me? We are starting to get a reputation! Sort it out with your words! The next time I hear word of another marketplace free-for-all, I will have the heads of the first two to throw the punches. Is that understood?"

Wordlessly, the two men nodded. Balgruuf looked them both over once more before turning and heading back to Dragonsreach as the crowd finally dispersed.

* * *

Back at Dragonsreach, the Jarl held a meeting with his housecarl, Irileth.

"My Jarl," Irileth began, "We have received another letter from the Emperor."

"Gods," Balgruuf hissed, "this has been the third of this moon. Is it about the same thing?"

"It appears so."

At this, Balgruuf shook his head. "I have tried to stay out of this war for as long as I could," the Nord sighed tiredly. "We are having enough trouble with our own citizens as it is. We can not afford to send out troops to aid in this blasted battle."

Just then, there was a knock on the chamber door. At his summons to enter, a young-looking guard poked his head in. "My Jarl," he addressed Balgruuf with a respectful bow of his head. "The dragonborn, Lady Viola, has arrived."

"...Perhaps," Irileth mumbled as the guard left the room, "we do not have to go to war to show loyalty to our Empire."

Intrigued, Balgruuf raised an eyebrow at his housecarl. "Oh? And how would we do that?"

"With a bit of Legion-friendly propaganda, of course." Through the crack of the door, Irileth could see right into the throne room. A flaxen-haired Breton woman in rich silks stood waiting patiently. "It's about time our most honored thane show allegiance to her new country, is it not? And she is so young and pretty... she would make a fantastic bride."

Balgruuf's eyes lit up. A political marriage would make for excellent publicity, and if the heroine of Skyrim and Whiterun's very own celebrity exchanged vows with a decorated Legionary officer, the Emperor would be most pleased.

"Irileth, Bring me Hadvar. He is a promising soldier, climbing up the ranks. He should be stationed in Riverwood at the moment."

With a bow, the Dunmer was gone, and Balgruuf entered the throne room to greet his guest.

"Ah, Lady Viola," he smiled at the young woman. "Tell me, my dear, have you ever thought of settling down?"

The Breton's forehead wrinkled in confusion and surprise, clearly taken off-guard by the odd question. "Well sure, I've thought about it," the woman admitted, eyeing the older man carefully. "...but I am not sure that I am ready, yet. I have not fallen in love."

Jarl Balgruuf was in a difficult place, having heard her answer. He cared for Viola like one of his children, the young lady being only nineteen years of age. He was still surprised that this delicate little flower was the heroine of legend who had taken care of Skyrim's dragon problem with her powerful magic and Thu'um. However, the Jarl's duty was to his city, and he needed her in order to keep the peace.

"My dear," he started meekly, "there are matters that we should discuss."

* * *

Avulstein Gray-Mane, after being treated by his mother for his injuries, decided to pay a visit to his father over at Skyforge later that day. Climbing up the stone steps, both Eorland and Avulstein's brother, Thorald, turned to look at him.

"Gods, what has happened to you?" Eorland shook his head, disappointed. No doubt, his boy had gotten into another fight.

"It was nothing I couldn't handle," Avulstein responded casually. "Though I wish Thorald or some of the Companions were there. It was exhilarating."

"You were foolish to quarrel."

"They insulted your craftsmanship and Mother's shop."

"Then they are dogs who do not know true quality."

The brothers smirked at their father's comment.

"Who is a dog?" said a fourth voice, and the men snapped their attention to the source. A tall, armored man with jaw-length dark-brown hair eyed them suspiciously through his warpaint.

"Lord Vilkas," Eorland greeted the companion with respect. "What can I do for you?"

"My blade has become dull again."

"That is because you entrusted it to Addrienne Avenicci."

Vilkas glared at the elderly man. "Addrienne is a fine blacksmith."

"Oh, she's a wonderful blacksmith," Eorland mused, "But I am the best. And you didn't visit her to get your blade sharpened." Vilkas appeared annoyed at the blacksmith. "You cannot bed her, Vilkas," Eorland chastised. "She is a married woman."

Vilkas scoffed, removing his sword from its sheathe and gently handing it to Eorland. "You misjudge me, old friend." he said before walking away, heading through the doors of Jorrvaskr.

Once inside, Vilkas was greeted warmly by his twin, Farkas. "Welcome home, Brother," the slightly taller nord embraced his brother. "How were your travels?"

Vilkas gave his brother a half-smile. "They were alright, I suppose," the Nord sighed. "The hunts begin to grow monotonous, though. I need something new. A new challenge."

Farkas laughed at his brother. "You have killed one of almost every beast there is. What more is there?" But he knew. He knew his brother didn't realize it, but Farkas had. The trips to Warmaiden's, Addrienne Avenicci, Vilkas was searching for something more. He had only recently found out about Addrienne's husband, and had since then been in a sour mood, yet denied any such thing when confronted about it. For someone so smart, Vilkas sure was dense about certain things.

Farkas decided he would help his brother find what he was looking for, as soon as the opportunity presented itself.

* * *

A brunette Nord had been polishing her shield in her quarters when she heard the front door open and shut with much force. Confused, the woman set her gear on her bed and went downstairs to check on the source, finding her mistress had returned home quite upset.

"Welcome home, My Thane," the woman bowed her head at the blonde breton and looked down at the shorter woman. "Is everything alright?"

A pair of blue eyes locked with the brunette's brown orbs as the blonde gave a bitter half-chuckle. "Everything is _grand_, Lydia. I had gone over to the Jarl's palace to inquire his court wizard about a book."

Lydia looked confused. "Did you get your book, My Thane?"

"Yes, yes I did," the blonde, who had started pacing, stopped and brandished a book about magical herbs, before continuing her pace. "And then I got something else."

Lydia gave a questioning stare to her mistress.

"_Married. The Jarl wishes me to be married!_" Viola fumed. "To the man who was my captor when I first entered this odd country!"

"Lord Hadvar, My Thane?"

Viola groaned. "So you do know him. He was not a displeasing man as it turned out... but Lydia, I do not love this man. And I am not yet ready to settle down... I have so many plans!"

Lydia appeared to be conflicted as Viola explained in whole what she and the Jarl had discussed. While she was sworn to serve her Thane, her loyalty to Jarl Balgruuf could not be severed either. "I believe you should learn to love him," Lydia suggested. "Perhaps you will grow fond of him."

Viola stopped her pacing once more and looked at Lydia, defeated. "I know, it is for Whiterun, and Whiterun is my home. That is why I agreed."

Lydia sighed with relief, but regretted it when noticing how dejected Viola looked. Lydia had come to love her Thane as a younger sister, and it was difficult seeing the young woman resign herself to a fate she did not desire.

"Lord Hadvar had arrived toward the end of our discussion, having been filled in by Irileth. He also agreed. We are to celebrate tonight, in the palace."

* * *

_And that should be it for chapter 1. This chapter jumps around a lot... I found it really hard to stay true to the original play while writing this, especially because script format is very different from story format. I really wanted to hammer out all of the opening scenes in one go, and hopefully things will get better? c: The next chapter will focus on the Ball scene where, with a little help from Farkas, the two heroes meet for the first time._


	2. Chapter 2

_Wow I'm so bad. I forgot to mention the very obvious disclaimer in the beginning of chapter one. Skyrim, Vilkas, Farkas, and all of the colorful characters you are reading about today don't belong to me, they're property of Bethesda. Well, except for the character of Viola. You know how it is. c: Now on with the ball!_

* * *

_**Earlier that day...**_

"Please just listen to me, Lady Viola," the Jarl pleaded. The Breton, in turn, turned her chin up in defiance. She trusted Jarl Balgruuf like she trusted her own father, and she felt completely betrayed by him. Had she not been well-versed in proper etiquette by the servants of her birth parents throughout her formative years, she would have already walked away. Instead, she resigned herself to the still-impolite but more dignified tantrum she currently displayed.

The Jarl sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the beginning of a tension headache already. Waiting for Viola to respond was pointless, he realized, as he continued without her approval. "You are loyal to the Empire, are you not?"

Her blue eyes darted to meet his reflexively. She opened her mouth to interrupt, but held her tongue. "The Emperor grows impatient with my display of neutrality... he has been pressuring me to finally express where my loyalties lie. However, as you may know, Whiterun cannot afford to lose any of its warriors to the civil war... I would like to avoid these matters, and prove my allegiance in other ways. You are Dragonborn, a person of great importance. And you have chosen to live in Whiterun after your travels. You are also known for supporting the Empire."

Jarl Balgruuf noticed a slight change in her disposition, and softened, realizing that he was slowly willing her down. Viola's posture loosened as the realization began to set in. "But why Lord Hadvar?" she asked finally. "Surely my loyalty to the Empire should be enough?"

"It was enough for a time, but our growing reputation has brought a need for something more. As you know, Whiterun's two founding clans are feuding right now, having picked opposing sides on the civil war. We are divided. We need to prove ourselves to the Empire in order to live prosperously. The wedding between a decorated Legionnaire and a Legion-supporting local celebrity would provide us with quite the reputation."

"The Gray-Manes would never stand for it."

"The Gray-Manes will have no say in the matter, and will be forced to deal with it."

_Just like me, _Viola sighed. She was in a difficult position. She was young and still very carefree. She believed in adventure and true love, and living every day like it were her last. Instead she was to be trapped in a loveless marriage, likely unable to leave the city walls again, and be resigned to a life of cooking, cleaning, and raising children. While settling down was something she always wanted for herself, she had always imagined it would be later down the line, with somebody she was in love with.

On the other hand, Viola owed a debt of gratitude to Jarl Balgruuf and the city of Whiterun. They took her in as one of their own, even before she was revealed to be Dragonborn. Every other hold in Skyrim only tried to court her into living with them after the fact. But these people saw the real Viola, the scrawny blonde traveler from Daggerfall who spoke like a noble. Who couldn't lift a real sword with her boney arms, but had possessed magical prowess that could rival old masters of the arcane. They knew the Viola who smiled very easily and loved to play with the village children; the Viola who never turned down a plea for help. And in the end, they saved Viola from making choices she would have come to regret. They were her new family, and if they were plunged into the war because of her refusal to be betrothed, she would never be able to forgive herself.

"My Lord," there was an interruption, and Irileth appeared with a slightly confused Hadvar following behind her. "I have brought Lord Hadvar, as requested."

"Ahh," the Jarl smiled. "Welcome, Sir Hadvar. Please, have a seat. I was just going over with Viola what I wished to speak with you about."

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time news of the party hit the market streets. Young women gushed eagerly to each other about what they would wear, and young men boasted about who they would be taking home that night from the party. No one had known many details of the festivities, other than where it was going to be held, and that everyone in the city was invited, even travelers and children. They didn't even know the purpose for the ball.

Among the crowd walked Farkas, his brother, and a couple of their shield-sisters and brothers. "Did you hear, Brother?" Farkas gleamed with excitement. "A party. We must go."

Vilkas scoffed at his brother. "Why," he questioned, his tone uninterested, "so we can mingle with Whiterun's pompous elite? Trade stories about the expensive art we have purchased or the high-quality mead we have collected? I'll pass."

"But everybody is invited, Brother. That means that Addrienne will be there."

Vilkas shot his brother a warning glare. He was shocked that his brother had the gall to dangle her in front of him like she was a piece of meat. Like he would do anything just for some woman. Addrienne was only a fleeting interest and a lost cause.

Still, it changed Vilkas's mind. "Alright, alright," he attempted to sound nonchalant, "We will go. But it won't be fun." _Maybe I'll bring my sword with me, in case any of those milk-drinkers try to start something.._

* * *

"Excuse me, sir, but I'm going to have to ask you to hand over your weapon."

Vilkas glared incredulously at the old steward who stood his post at the front end of the bridge. Other partygoers in lavish attire passed by them and into the palace.

"I told you you couldn't bring it along," Farkas muttered.

With an annoyed grunt, the Nord finally relinquished his weapon. "_Don't take it out of its hilt._" He spat, foisting the weapon at the elderly man.

The sun had just set when the brothers made it into the palace. Vilkas tugged at the collar of his tunic uncomfortably as he looked around. While the quality of Fralia's needlework was beautiful, he still felt under-dressed compared to everybody else. He had washed the war paint off of his face and donned a black and dark red tunic with a black tailcoat. His brother's was black and blue.

Quickly, Farkas scanned the room. Finding something, he tugged on his brother's sleeve. "There they are," he said cheerfully, dragging his brother over to where Aela and the other companions were.

"Well well," Aela whistled, looking the twins, mainly Farkas, up and down. "You sure clean up nicely." The Nord woman smiled easily, intoxicated by the atmosphere of the room. She had chosen to wear a blue silk dress that showed off her arms. Her warpaint had also been washed off and replaced with another type of paint: makeup; and her usually disheveled red hair had been tied neatly into a bun that hung low on the front-right side of her head.

Farkas quickly held out his arm for the woman, as she wrapped hers in it, and the two of them were off. Kodlak turned to the older twin.

"Even your brother has a date. Where is yours, Vilkas?"

"Hmph," the Nord crossed his arms defiantly. "I did not even wish to come here. All these people care about is their wealth. It's disgusting."

"True," the older Nord mused, "but at least the mead is free. Try to have fun."

And with that, Kodlak turned and walked into the crowd, leaving Vilkas to stand by himself.

* * *

The sounds of music and laughter could be heard downstairs as the woman nervously fumbled with her dress.

Viola had been sitting alone in one of the Jarl's guest rooms for over twenty minutes as her stomach twisted uncomfortably. She didn't feel like going down and greeting everybody, pretending to be ridiculously happy. She felt like going for a hike.

This lavish ball was her engagement party, after all. Though the purpose for the party had been kept a secret. She had convinced the Jarl and Hadvar that in her culture, spreading news of an engagement before the week of the wedding was bad luck. Somehow, they believed it. Unfortunately, Hadvar was still insistent on a celebration, even if the meaning was kept secret.

Even if the party's purpose was a secret, she couldn't go unnoticed. As soon as she entered the room, she would be recognized as the guest of honor. It was the same for any ball she attended. It was tiresome.

There was a knock on her door, pulling Viola from her thoughts. "Please, come in," she muttered, unsure.

Hadvar entered her chamber, dressed in what looked like a ridiculously expensive red and gold tunic. As soon as he laid eyes on her, his eyes had widened. "My Lady..." he breathed. "...Forgive me. You are stunning."

A blush crept up on Viola's cheeks. Her long blonde tresses had been pulled into a high bun-some curls escaping to frame her face, and her bangs swept sideways across her forehead. blue eyes and soft facial features were accentuated with the right touch of makeup, and she wore an elegant white gown with a bare back and matching white gloves. On the outside, she was the picture of grace. On the inside, she was wildly uncomfortable, despite being used to such formal occasions.

"Thank you," she attempted to sound graceful, but it came out more like a squeak. "You look very nice as well, Sir Hadvar."

"Shall we?" he gestured, holding out a hand.

"Ah... but won't we give ourselves away? It would be bad luck if news of our engagement got out."

"Tonight, I am an official Legionary representative escorting the Dragonborn to the party."

Viola's smile faltered slightly, as she gave him her hand.

* * *

By 7 O'Clock, the party was in full-swing. Vilkas had retired to one of the tables, nursing a bottle of very expensive whiskey, when all of a sudden, the music stopped and the voices dropped down to hushed whispers.

"Ladies and gentlemen," announced a young man in a palace uniform, "please bow and welcome your host and ruler, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater."

There was a round of soft applause as the Jarl descended from the staircase, clad in a gold and white tunic fit for a man in his position. "Welcome, my honored guests," the powerful man beamed, looking over the crowd. "I am very pleased that so many of you could join us here tonight. Please feel free to eat and drink what you would like, and stay as long as you would like ... within reason, of course."

The crowd chuckled at his comment, and he went on. "Think of this as a celebration of life. The dragon crisis is over!" The crowd erupted into loud cheers, but were silence after a short while by the Jarl, who merely raised a hand to them.

"We have this person to thank for that. She came to us as not much but a wee traveler from Daggerfall, scrawny and meek. But she rose to her destiny as the Dragonborn of legend, and has saved us all! Please welcome Lady Viola."

Slowly, a figure in a white dress began to walk down the stairs gracefully, led by a man who was obviously military of some kind. A bodyguard, perhaps? The woman did not look the fighting type. Vilkas couldn't see her well from where he sat, but had Jarl Balgruuf not introduced her, there was no way he could believe that she was supposed to be the hero of legend.

The cheers continued as the girl smiled and waved at the crowd, while the man in the red and gold tunic stood at attention beside her. Finally after a few minutes of applause and cheers, the Jarl dismissed the crowd to carry on with the festivities.

Vilkas continued with his drink.

* * *

An hour later, and Vilkas was still at the same table. Meanwhile, the party had not died down one bit. Everyone was dancing and having a great time. Vilkas spotted Adrienne with her husband, and Farkas and Aela, all dancing. Even Eorland and his wife were enjoying themselves, all while the stubborn warrior scowled at his goblet.

The noise of a chair being dragged out caught his attention. "Excuse me," said a voice, "but I hope you aren't hogging all of the mead to yourself."

Vilkas turned to look at the source of his new companion, and his eyes widened. The dragonborn had chosen to sit next to him. Up close, Vilkas could see the woman much better. And upon closer inspection, Vilkas decided that the woman before him was incredibly beautiful.

His gaze hardened as he pushed the thought from his mind. Beauty or not, this woman was surely a spoiled debutante. She seemed to carry herself a certain way. A girl like her clearly came from money.

"Serve yourself," Vilkas said dismissively, turning his attention back to his drink. But the woman stared at him. _Is she judging me?_ Vilkas cast a harsh glare at the girl, causing her to blush from embarrassment.

"Sorry, I did not mean to stare," she mumbled apologetically. "It's just, ahh... you..you are a Companion, correct?"

Interesting. The nobles usually paid no mind to know the Companions of Jorrvaskr, with the exception of Kodlak, Vignar, and on occasion, Skjor. "Aye, I am," he admitted. "What of it?"

Immediately, the Breton's blue eyes lit up with excitement. "You must be a really talented swordsman, then. Tell me, what's it like? I've never been good with a sword... can't even lift one, to be honest. Is it scary, fighting beasts up close? Is your sword enchanted? How many beasts have you slain?"

Vilkas was caught off guard as the younger woman fired off question after question rapidly. He stammered as he tried to answer them all, in shock with her unusual interest. "I am considered a master of two-handed swords. It is... exhilarating. The thrill of a close fight can not be beat. I do not enchant my weapon... I have slain at least almost one of every beast in Skyrim."

The Breton giggled, pleased with his response. "It is an honor to meet a man such as yourself. My name is Viola."

"I know that," Vilkas interjected a little too harshly, slightly embarrassed by her praise. "I am Vilkas."

"Vilkas," she repeated, grinning from ear to ear. "That is an odd name. But I guess, to a Nord, that is normal. I bet my name sounds odd to you!"

This girl was very different from other nobles, he realized. She had this naive charm to her, with an unfiltered curiosity. She was somewhat easier to be around, in one sense. In another sense...very difficult. He was confused by her.

"How did a scrawny little thing," he insulted, "who can't even wield a sword, manage to stop the World-Eater?"

"Oh, I trained vigorously at the College."

"The...college?"

"Mm. The College of Winterhold. I'm a mage." Viola took a swig of her mead, casting her eyes to the ground somewhat sadly. "...The arch-mage, now, I guess."

A mage. That made sense. There was no way her body had enough muscle to wield a sword or bow, so magic was the obvious choice. Like most Nords, the idea of magic made Vilkas uncomfortable, but this girl looked like she couldn't even harm a fly.

"So what are you doing here all by yourself?" The Breton looked at him from the corner of her eyes. "I have seen you sitting at this table for quite some time now."

"I don't do well at parties..." Vilkas admitted slowly. "I think these sorts of parties are just ways for the nobles to showcase their wealth and boast endlessly about trivial things that don't matter."

"Whew," the Breton sighed with relief, giving Vilkas a cheeky grin. "I'm not the only one, then. That is a relief."

Vilkas looked at her incredulously. "What?"

"I hate these parties. I always have. Some of these people are so stuffy! And then the rest of them pretend they're something they're not in order to impress the stuffy ones. It's exhausting."

It was clear Viola was beginning to relax around him, as her dialogue changed to something far less formal. It was a pleasant surprise. Perhaps not all rich people were so superficial.

Suddenly, Viola's eyes darted nervously towards something. Vilkas tried to look where she was looking when her eyes fixed back on his. "Hey..." she said suddenly, touching his forearm. "Do you want to dance with me? I think I'm supposed to dance."

Vilkas did not wish to dance, but he was interested in continuing his conversation with her. Slowly, the Nord stood up, as did Viola. With a smirk, he realized that he towered over her significantly; Bretons were not known for being tall. Taking her arm on his own, he led the girl to the dance floor.

* * *

Farkas beamed as he noticed his brother standing up, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw his brother leading the Dragonborn to the dance floor.

Vilkas met his brother's gaze briefly before turning his attention back to his escort. Viola looked somewhat distracted. Shaking her head, she smiled up at him, placing one of her hands on one of his broad shoulders, and the other hand in his own outstretched one. Vilkas in turn wrapped his idle hand around the small of her back, only then realizing he could feel the smooth skin of her back, heightening his senses. The girl smelled incredible, he realized. He had to shake himself out of it, his wolf senses having nearly got the best of him. "So where are you from?" He attempted to re-establish the conversation.

"Daggerfall. My father is a very wealthy entrepreneur, and my mother is a wildly talented apothecary."

It made sense that she had an air of nobility about her-her parents sounded like very powerful people.

"Why come to Skyrim, then?" He didn't understand.

"I didn't want to follow the plan my parents made for me. Marry the head of a company my father is partnered with, become one of those women who is waited on all of the time."

"Do you still keep in touch with your parents?"

"Of course, I write them often. Though now my father tries to claim that it was his intention all along that I come to Skyrim."

Vilkas snorted. They sounded like _lovely _people.

"What about you?" Viola's question caught him off-guard. "Do you still talk to your parents?"

"Ahh..." discomfort was clear on the man's features. "They died when my brother and I were pups. The Harbinger of the companions, Kodlak, took us in."

"O-oh... I'm sorry," Viola bit her bottom lip nervously. "...But! It seems like you have a very loving family now."

"Yes... I do." Vilkas realized she was right. The companions had become a true family to him and his brother. Vilkas had no idea what he would do without them. If it weren't for them, he wouldn't be standing before her today.

"So... got a girlfriend back at Jorrvaskr?" The girl teased him, but she looked genuinely interested for some reason.

"Not at all," the man said a bit too eager for his tastes. For some reason, he cared about what this girl thought about him, and didn't want to give her the wrong idea. "What about you? Any knight in shining armor?"

Viola's smile faded quickly for a split second. "Ah, N-no," she said weakly, and then more confidently, added, "There is no man that I am in love with."

Vilkas was oddly pleased to hear this. His onyx eyes met her blue ones, and they kept eye contact for a long time.

Vilkas was surprised with himself. He had a different feeling when he gazed into the eyes of this girl. She had been a stranger to him an hour ago, but now. Now he could hardly quelm the excitement that boiled within him when he caught sight of her. He was very attracted to her.

And judging by the way she was looking at him, the feeling was mutual.

Suddenly, Vilkas lost himself for a moment, forgetting his place. He moved his hand, dropping hers, and placing it with his other hand on her back.

Viola slowly lifted her hands, wrapping them around the back of his strong neck.

He leaned in.

So did she.

Slowly, he closed his eyes.

And then suddenly, the moment was gone. "E-excuse me!" Viola squeaked, breaking free from his grasp. "I-I am suddenly unwell. I should head home, now... It was nice spending the evening with you. I hope to see you again soon!"

With that, she was gone. She fled so quickly, leaving Vilkas dumbfounded, standing alone on the crowded dance floor.

Regaining his composure, his gaze shifted toward the exit she had left through.

_I have to go after her._

* * *

_Thank you for reading! I hope this chapter wasn't too long. And I hope I did Vilkas's character some justice. I tried to keep him hardened and stubborn, with just a touch of loneliness to push him to be bolder. If it wasn't supposed to be a Romeo and Juliet AU, their growth of feelings would be much, **much **slower. I mean, that whole play takes place in the span of a few weeks or something! That's pretty fast!_

_Anyway, I hope you liked it, whoever is reading, out there. c:_


	3. Chapter 3

_All of the characters, continents, creatures, etc. of Tamriel and the Elder Scrolls series do not belong to me, they belong to Bethesda. This is just a simple fanfic. : _

* * *

_Vilkas's hands slid around her waist, folding at the arch in her back. Almost instinctively, Viola's own hands found themselves wrapped around that solid, muscular neck of his._

_His scent was of the forest. It was so inviting and comfortable. His eyes captivated her, his steely grey hues hazed over as he bore into her intently. The Breton's heart was beating violently against her ribcage as an unfamiliar excitement took hold of her._

_He leaned in._

_So did she. _

_Gods, in that moment, she only saw him._

_But then she blinked. Gods, she blinked._

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of dark red and gold heading toward her from afar. Hadvar. She had noticed him watch her throughout the evening. She knew he would intervene, and it would make for an embarrassing scene._

_Reluctantly, she put the distance between them. "E-excuse me!" she squeaked, as she wriggled free from her grasp. "I-I am suddenly unwell. I should head home now... It was nice spending the evening with you. I hope to see you again soon!"_

_The Nord she had danced with looked hurt and confused, causing a painful tightening in her chest. Hadvar, on the other hand, seemed satisfied, as he stopped his approach and turned to speak with some other guests._

_Viola gave the man one last fleeting smile before rushing out of the Jarl's throne room and into the brisk winter air. She needed to go cool her head._

* * *

After a few moments in shock, Vilkas shook it off and hurried after her. He glanced over at his brother and his friends as he headed for the doors. They hadn't noticed a thing, and likely wouldn't even realize his absence. _Sorry, Brother._ He apologized in his mind. He would explain later.

Once outside, Vilkas had collected his weapon and cloak from the steward who had taken them. He began to cross the bridge when it dawned on him: he didn't even know where the woman lived. He turned to ask for directions when he spotted two of the Jarl's guards speaking in hushed tones.

"I wonder why the Jarl would throw a party after the events of this morning," said one.

"I overheard a meeting he had earlier with the dragonborn," whispered the other, "they were planning out the details of the party."

"Oh? What did you hear?"

"I heard that it's an **engagement party. **Lady Viola and Lord Hadvar's engagement party."

Vilkas's jaw tightened. Viola was engaged. For some reason, it bothered him. He even felt angry at her.

_"There is no man that I am in love with," _Viola's words resonated in his mind. They sounded sincere, even painfully so. That gave him comfort.

"Excuse me," The Nord interrupted the gossiping guards' conversation.

"Hail, Companion!" one of the guards said excitedly.

"Do you know where Lady Vi- Do you know where the _dragonborn _lives? She was not feeling well, and as a Companion of Jorrvaskr, it is my duty to see to it that she got home safely."

He must have sounded convincing enough, because the guards gave away her location quite easily. A place called Breezehome. He remembered the vacant house, and how it had been remodeled lately and made much larger. It made sense now.

Vilkas hurried through the empty streets, toward his destination. Once he stood before the large building, he knocked on the door.

There was a long moment of silence before he heard the creak of the door. In the doorway stood a brunette Nord clad in armor. "May I help you with something?" she asked, eyeing the man suspiciously.

"I am looking for Lady Viola. Has she returned home yet?"

"What business do you have with my Mistress?"

"Just checking to make sure she is alright."

"My Lady is ill and in bed right now."

Vilkas clenched his teeth. She had been fine only moments earlier. He berated himself. Perhaps his forward actions made her uncomfortable and she didn't wish to see him again.

"Ah," he sighed begrudgingly, defeated. "Well, please tell her that Vilkas of the Companions stopped by to check up on her."

Lydia remembered that name from somewhere.

* * *

_The Nord woman was all alone in the large home again that day. She had chosen not to go to the ball in favor of cleaning the house. It was her own way of silently protesting Viola's arranged unhappiness._

_All of a sudden, Viola came bursting through the door, as usual. But she did not look unhappy at all. Quite the contrary, in fact._

_"Welcome home, My Thane," Lydia smiled. "Did you have a nice time?"_

_"Oh, Lydia," the Breton sighed happily, "I had an amazing time..."_

_"I didn't expect you and Sir Hadvar to find happiness so quickly."_

_Viola stared at her housecarl for a moment in confusion. "Oh, no..." she shook her head, "I avoided Hadvar."_

_Lydia's eyes widened. "Then...?"_

_"I met someone." Viola began to disrobe, right there in the foyer._

_"You met someone." Lydia rushed to catch the expensive garments her mistress carelessly tossed to the ground._

_"He's tall! And so fascinating and so..." she trailed off, blushing, "...so handsome. He's a warrior, too! A bona fide companion of Jorrvaskr." Heading into her chamber, Viola sifted through her wardrobe until she found a suitable traveling outfit. She stepped behind her changing screen, as Lydia followed her into her room. "Oh, Lydia. You should have seen him. I must see him again... his name is Vilkas."_

_"You should not see him again."_

_"And why not?"_

_"Because you are engaged."_

_Viola scoffed at her housecarl. "Ugh, semantics, Lydia. I do not love Hadvar. But Vilkas... I don't know. All I know is, I would regret not knowing."_

_The blonde stepped into view again, this time wearing a hooded black adventurers tunic. She looked at Lydia with pleading eyes._

* * *

"Hold on a minute!" Lydia called after Vilkas, who had turned to walk away.

The gruff man stopped and faced her.

"She snuck out just a few moments ago... I helped her. She has a place she likes to go to for a temporary escape. It isn't too far from here."

The woman had marked a trail on a region map and handed it to him.

He bid her good-bye and left.

* * *

The crescent moon above shone a bright light over the clearing in Viola's secret place.

The mage was no master of stealth, but over the course of months she had quickly learned how to sneak past the bored gate guards. A little way up the river lead to a small, shallow lake that could be easily walked across. There was a little island in the center, guarded by trees, where Viola had claimed has her own. It was off of the beaten path, and the only creatures aside from herself and Lydia who knew about it were the rabbits and deer.

The Breton cast Magelight and closed her eyes, aiming her bare hands at the iron dummy she had moved there a few weeks ago. Suddenly, sparks emitted from one of her hands, flames from the other. She threw them at the dummy, who did not budge.

Then she spun around, this time throwing an ice spike at an iron target she had hung high in a tree.

She then folded her hands together and pointed them at the sky as she sent a large lightning spark at the moon.

Viola panted heavily, having drained a good bit of magicka in that last burst. Whenever she had felt stressed or frustrated, she would come here to blow off steam.

"Curse my fate," she muttered childishly, sitting on a tree stump with a pout on her lips. "I would rather die than give up my freedom to the monotomy of loveless matrimony... What I would give for a chance at happiness. To meet someone who loves me, and someone I love, and to marry them. I would surely be happy then."

She remembered Vilkas as she felt her cheeks heat up. "I would love to be a companion... To know what that man had spoken about. To be honorable and adventurous... but I am hopeless with a sword."

There was a rustle in the leaves of a nearby bush. Quickly, Viola arose and pointed her hands at the source. "Come out slowly," she called, attempting to sound more intimidating than she looked. "And I won't burn you to a crisp."

A Nord in a cloak approached her slowly with his hands on his head, cautiously eyeing her. "There is no need for magic, woman," he warned. The Moonlight reflected off of his large sword.

The voice was a familiar one, and the Breton's hands dropped to her sides. "You...you're Vilkas, right?"

"Aye. The Noble forgot me already...how cruel. Typical, though." He gave her a teasing smirk.

"What are you doing here?"

Vilkas gave her a stern look. "I should ask you the same question," he said accusingly.

Vilkas came closer and stood before her, as she looked around for a place for both of them to sit. Settling for the grass, she took the lead, him following suit.

"Just clearing my head, is all."

"Oh? What bothers you?"

Fumbling, Viola's eyes darted to her feet. "Just, the pressures of being Dragonborn," she lied.

"But the dragons are gone."

"But I'm still Dragonborn. People still expect things from me." That wasn't a lie. She felt that she couldn't tell him about Hadvar, however. "There is so much I want to do...so much I want to learn. But I can't. I'm expected to become a civilian now."

Vilkas's eyes darted to the various training targets that were hidden around. "You seek adventure."

"More than anything."

The girl had the heart of a warrior, even though she had the body of a milk-drinker. Vilkas understood all too well the passion that burned in her heart. It was the same passion that burned in the hearts of every companion. The lust for the hunt, yearning for adventure, he knew it like it was a part of him.

"I'm sure I could teach you a few things," he offered casually.

Viola practically jumped on him with unbridled excitement. "Do you mean it?" she cried.

Vilkas cleared his throat loudly, causing her to remove herself from him quickly. He wasn't opposed to the contact, but it was neither the time nor the place. "Of course. Come meet me at Jorrvaskr tomorrow morning and we will begin."

Viola fought the urge to hug him to the ground again. Instead, she let the emotion show on her face as she gave him the warmest smile she had given in a long time. "Vilkas... thank you."

Vilkas held back his own smile, as he turned his head to look to the trees. "It is not a problem," he muttered.

Any awkwardness about the kiss they had almost shared had dissipated as they now stared at each other once again. Viola was finding herself getting lost in his gaze, yet again, as her heart jumped in her chest. She couldn't shake the feeling she got around him. It was new and confusing to her.

He appeared to feel the same, or at least she hoped.

Then she yawned.

"Ahh..." he said, somewhat awkwardly. "It is quite late. We should return home before the party ends and people start to notice we are gone."

Viola nodded tiredly, as she stood up with him and took his arm. It was very muscular, she noted.

The pair walked back to Whiterun together in comfortable silence.

He had also walked her to her front door. Her fingers brushed over his as she let go of his arm, and with one last look into those eyes, she disappeared behind her door.

"Did you have a nice time, My Thane?"

"Lydia, you don't even know."

* * *

The Nord began walking back to his home, back to Jorrvaskr.

"Did you enjoy yourself, brother?" The voice startled him, as Farkas appeared from the shadows.

"Farkas," Vilkas addressed his brother. "What are you doing here?"

"We all decided to go home, but I realized you weren't at the palace. I was going to go look for you, but here you are."

"Here I am."

Farkas eyed his brother, and then the house that he had seen him walk away from. "Was that Lady Viola just now?"

Vilkas met the eyes of his brother inquisitively. "Aye. What of it?"

"I saw you dancing with her."

"... Aye. What of it?"

Farkas gave a knowing smile, fanning the flames of his brother's growing annoyance. "Nothing. She's pretty. Let's go home."

* * *

_Sorry this chapter was much shorter than the others ;C And probably not as exciting as the Ball. But I feel like they need more of a connection than just "love at first sight". So, training, hoooo! I hope I'm doing an okay job. c:_


	4. Chapter 4

_Gah! I am so sorry! I promise I haven't given up on this story yet, I've just been busy. I'm very sorry for the wait. :c I do not own The Elder Scrolls series, its characters, or its settings. They belong to Bethesda. This is a simple fanwork._

* * *

Vilkas was annoyed.

That wasn't quite a strong enough word. Vilkas was_ enraged. _

He had woken up earlier than most that morning in preparation for today. He ate his porridge quickly and rushed out to the training area to get a few practice swings in before his new student showed up. He had to suffer through the teasing looks of his twin and Aela, and the casual knowing smiles of Kodlak and Skjor. They all knew who he was expecting that morning.

But morning came and went, and she never showed up. It was nearly noon now, and Vilkas sat at one of the outdoor tables with his elbows rudely propped up on the table, his hands resting on his chin.

"Perhaps she is busy," Aela reassured. Her and Farkas were clearly enjoying themselves at Vilkas's expense. "Or maybe she forgot."

"She wouldn't have forgotten," Vilkas growled, "and if she has, I will make her pay."

Farkas and Aela backed down, lest they make the poor girl suffer anymore at the hands of Vilkas's dangerous temper.

* * *

That morning had been a hectic one for Viola. She had woken up quite early, too excited for the day to stay asleep. She had bathed and wolfed down her breakfast (to Lydia's dismay, as it was an impeccable breach of manners), and had donned some sensible brown light armor. She had decided to take a warmup jog outside the city gates when she was stopped at her door by an Altmeri man in fancy robes. Apparently in all of the fun last night, she had forgotten that she agreed to meet with councilmen from Summerset Isles to discuss her new direction for the College of Winterhold. After all, she was the new arch-mage, and it was very much like the Altmer to be involved with anything arcane.

Their meeting took up nearly the whole morning and was filled with the Altmer pushing their offers of help to her as she was _only _a Breton. And a young little thing at that. Sure, she was Dragonborn, but she was still no High Elf. While she did admit she was in over her head with the whole college thing, she already had the help of Tolfdir and the other excellent staff.

By 11 o'clock, Viola had managed to send away her guests, promising that she would accept their invitations to visit Summerset Isles in the future. The whole ordeal was quite exhausting and for a brief moment she nearly forgot what she had planned for the day until Lydia was kind enough to remind her.

"My Thane," the Nordic woman looked over at the young Breton, who was sprawled out, face-first, on the soft rug on her sitting room floor.

"What is it, Lydia? If it's another diplomat, trader, or emissary, tell them I'm not home."

"It isn't that. Pardon me, but didn't you have somewhere to be?"

Viola lifted her face from the ground to look up questioningly at her housecarl.

"Pardon me... but did you not have an appointment over at Jorrvaskr?"

"Ahh!" Viola cried as she jumped up in panicked realization. "I was supposed to be there this morning, of course! I hope I'm not too late... Lydia, where is my sword?"

"My Thane, you do not have a swo-"

Pulling the sword she received from the Jarl of Winterhold from its decorative mount on the wall, Viola rushed out the door.

Lydia silently prayed for her Thane's safety and success.

* * *

Viola felt much smaller as she stood before the double doors to the famous mead hall. Jorrvaskr was much more intimidating up close, and the small Breton instantly felt a wave of nervous discomfort wash over her. She was not worthy to walk through these doors: she was no warrior or huntress. She was a lost little girl who couldn't even throw a decent punch.

"You're blocking the door, Little One." grunted a voice from behind, startling Viola and causing her to jump. She turned around quickly to face the man and her eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. It was Vilkas, only with slight differences. It must have been the brother he mentioned.

"Oh, I-I am sorry," she stammered out nervously, too embarrassed to make eye contact. "I was just about to go inside...I was, umm... admiring the woodwork.."

The large man shrugged indifferently and then approached her. Viola visibly shrank as the man's eyes moved across her face.

"You're Lady Viola, right?"

"Y-yes," Viola stood up straight, attempting to regain some of her dignity, "I am Viola."

"My brother has been waiting for you. He's very angry."

Viola bit her lip nervously. She could only imagine what punishment was in store for her. "I know... I am sorry."

Again, the man shrugged. This time, he smiled. "He'll get over it once he sees you, follow me. I'm Farkas, by the way. Vilkas is my twin brother."

Viola smiled as she agreed to follow him. She found it silly that he felt the need to mention that he and Vilkas were twins as it was quite obvious. Perhaps he was more simple-minded than his twin.

Instead of taking her through the doors, he led her around the building to an area with target dummies and tables. Above on a stone ledge, Viola spotted the renowned blacksmith Eorland Gray-Mane working at what she could only assume was Skyforge. There were various armored men and women of different races speaking at one of the tables. A few feet away from them at his own table sat Vilkas, his back turned from her. Farkas approached his brother first, while Viola stood back.

"Brother," he chimed, "Look who I've brought."

Vilkas whipped around quickly, catching Viola off-guard. His menacing glare bore into her, intimidating her from making eye contact. She noticed the group of warriors had paused their conversation in order to watch.

"You're late." He spat.

"I know...I'm sorry. I got cornered into a long meeting..."

Vilkas stood and walked over to her, stopping only one foot away from her. He looked down at her, making her feel even smaller. "A warrior does not hide behind excuses."

Viola swallowed hard. She didn't realize just how menacing he really was until she saw him in his armor and warpaint. He looked like he could crush her.

Sensing her fear, Vilkas smirked. "But you aren't a warrior. You're a whelp."

The blonde balled up her fists, earning her a chuckle from Vilkas. He could tell she was annoyed by his comment, but he knew she was too polite to do anything about it.

"Well, are you ready then, whelp?"

"... Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"I am ready, Vilkas."

"I'm _Master _Vilkas to you, whelp."

Viola's delicate features twisted slightly, another subtle hint of her annoyance. "I'm ready," dipping down in a mocking curtsy, she looked up at him with a new fire in her eyes, "_Master _Vilkas."

Vilkas led her to an open spot in front of the training targets and drew his large, two-handed sword. "Draw your sword. I want you to swing at me."

Viola looked at him, confused.

"Don't worry," Vilkas mocked, "even if I wasn't defending, I doubt you'd be able to hurt me."

"I could surprise you," she offered.

"You won't," he said flatly.

Fueled by anger, Viola drew the sword that had been a mere decoration in her home moments before. It was surprisingly heavier than it looked as she grasped it awkwardly with both hands. Drawing a deep breath in, she raised her arms and swung the blade down with as much force as she could muster.

Vilkas took a step to the side, dodging it easily.

Viola bit her lip in frustration. Either he was quicker than she thought or she was slower than she realized. She decided to take a different route. Taking her stance in again, she gave a heavy, horizontal swing.

With a step back, he dodged her attack yet again. "Is that the best you can do?" he jeered.

Viola wiped her forehead, her bangs glued to her skin with perspiration. She was already panting, as the sword was quite heavy for her. With the last of her strength, she lunched towards him, thrusting her blade forward.

With surprising agility, Vilkas grabbed her arms, forcing the blade out of her hands, and kneed her in the stomach, sending her to the ground. The Bretton hunched over in pain, looking up at him through furrowed brows.

"You need something lighter," he said simply. "And your stances were horrible. It was clear that you've never handled a blade before."

Viola looked down, mortified and dejected. She could hear the other warriors mumbling in the background, staring at her. Her cheeks were burning from shame and embarrassment as her eyes stung from the tears she was holding back. She was a dignified lady: she would not cry in front of him.

Surprisingly, Vilkas held out a hand to help her, which she graciously accepted.

"We have a lot of work to do. Your training begins today. Now, let's get you a lighter sword."

* * *

_This chapter turned out to be significantly shorter than the others. I had planned to make it longer, but then decided to cut it off here. Save the rest for the next chapter. c: Which I will HOPEFULLY update much sooner. Apologies again! I hope you enjoyed reading._


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you to whoever reviewed, and thank you to everyone who reads and follows this story. You guys are amazing. c: As always, I do not own The Elder Scrolls series, Skyrim, its settings, characters, or Lore. They belong to Bethesda._

* * *

At first, it annoyed him with just how incompetent his new pupil was. For the sake of Talos, this girl couldn't hold a sword in the correct manner! It was painfully obvious that she had had no prior training up until this day. She was slow and clumsy, and she was far too easy to read. He knew she was going to be a challenge, and a damn-near impossible one at that.

But there was something about her that made it all seem possible. Unlike other recruits, she did not argue with the orders he gave to her. She did not roll her eyes or sigh dramatically. She did not give up. His attempts to haze her, while successful at annoying her, did not crush her spirit. In fact, it seemed that a certain fire burned inside of her when he hazed her. A fire he knew all too well.

She was determined to prove him wrong.

Mentally speaking, Viola was the ideal student. If only her actions could meet up to her mentality, she would make a fine warrior.

On certain days, he would send her on pointless errands just to test her. No matter how ridiculous they had been, she always completed them in the most effective ways she could manage. "If only your combat skills were as good as your ability to do simple chores," he would tell her.

After he would say that, Viola would disappear. When he would go to look for her, he would find her in the courtyard doing pushups.

Despite her best efforts after a few weeks of this routine, Viola showed little improvement. While she had grown strong enough to grasp a weapon without trembling, she was still nowhere near being able to swing it. In his years of training recruits, he had never before had a student who couldn't even handle their weapon. Now Vilkas could see that it wasn't her physical weakness that got in her way, but her own mind.

One day, while she was doing her pushups, Vilkas stopped her.  
"Your swordsmanship is still sloppy," he began in a stern tone.  
"I know..." she sighed. It was clear that she was already quite tired. "I do not understand. I've been getting stronger."  
"Aye, you have." Vilkas said, this time with a softer voice. "Tell me, Viola. Do you think you have what it takes to be a warrior?"

The Breton blinked at him, shocked at his soft approach, and even more so that he called her by name this time instead of "whelp".  
"I'm not quite sure what you mean..."

"Do you think you can be an accomplished warrior?"

Viola lowered her eyes to the ground in solemn thought. She didn't speak for a long time, and when she did, it was barely above a whisper:  
"I...don't think so.."  
"Well, there's your problem."  
The blonde looked up at him, confused.

"You don't believe in yourself. You have worked hard and you have the heart of a warrior, but you don't believe you're capable enough. You're holding yourself back. I cannot teach you if you can't get past this." He left her with that, as he went up to Skyforge. He glanced behind him to see her staring down at her feet.

* * *

Viola sat alone in the Bannered Mare that night nursing a goblet of wine. She had changed out of her training armor and into a simple yet expensive-looking dress, as she was expected to wear. She carried the exterior of a dignified, high-class member of society at all times as per the request of the Jarl. But even while she seemed calm and composed, she was far from it.

Vilkas's words from earlier rang in her head over and over. _"You don't believe in yourself. You're holding yourself back. I cannot teach you if you can't get past this." _

She was in a very difficult situation. She had always dreamed of fighting like a warrior, but due to her small frame, she had spent her years telling herself that it was nothing but a pipe dream. Now here she was, training to make that dream come true, and the thing standing in her way isn't her body. It's her mind.

She felt like she let Vilkas down. More importantly, she felt like she had let _herself _down. The Breton sighed in despair, not knowing how she could ever face the Nord again.

The sound of the chair next to her brought Viola out of her slump, and her heart nearly jumped out of her throat when she saw the eyes of her teacher looking back at her.

Only it wasn't Vilkas. It was his brother.

"I don't see you here often," he said in a friendly tone.

"I come from time to time to think," the girl said politely, looking up at him. "Why are you not at Jorrvaskr? Surely you could drink there, could you not?"

"I can. But I like the atmosphere here."

Viola looked across the bar. Tonight was a pretty quiet night at the Bannered Mare, as they were the only patrons in sight. Even the bartenders had slipped to the back room after serving the two.

Farkas met her eyes as she looked back up at him, and chuckled lightly. "It's fun most days. And I heard you'd be here."

"You were looking for me?"

The Nord nodded as he took a swig of his mead. "I overheard your conversation with my brother earlier."

Viola's eyes immediately shot down to her goblet. "Oh..."

"You know, I was kind of like you once."

Viola laughed somewhat bitterly. "_You? _Like _me?__" _It was unbelievable. This man was built from head to toe. Him and his twin were the picture of what a warrior should be.

"I didn't want to hurt anyone. And I didn't think I was smart enough to be a warrior."

"And how did you get over that?"

Farkas chuckled again, this time with more heart. "Kodlak told me that being a warrior isn't about beating up people. It's about protecting people who can't fend for themselves." Scratching his head, he added, "And I'm still not smart, so I never fixed that problem. Vilkas is the smart one."

The blonde laughed a bit more comfortably. "That is very good advice... and I believe you are smarter than you think."

"Really?"

"Really." Fidgeting slightly, Viola looked back up at Farkas. "But how do I fix it for me? I always tell myself that I am incapable of being a warrior."

"That's easy. Start telling yourself you can."

Viola shook her head somberly. "Even when I tell myself, I don't believe it."

"Then prove it to yourself."

"How?"

The Nord scratched his chin in thought. After a long pause, he banged his fist on the counter, startling Viola slightly. "I'm supposed to go on a mission with Vilkas tomorrow at midday. Take my place."

Viola's eyes lit up at the idea. "Are you sure I could manage? And what about Vilkas? Won't he be upset?"

"The opposite," Farkas muttered to himself. "I'll take care of that. And you'll be fine. You've been training with the best."

Viola smiled warmly at the Nord. She quite liked this idea.

* * *

Vilkas waited outside of the Whitreun stables, tapping his foot impatiently. His brother was quite late, which was unusual of Farkas. It was annoying.

As he was about to go looking for his twin, he saw a figure approaching him from the distance. But this figure was much too small to be Farkas.

Vilkas appeared puzzled as an excited-looking Viola walked towards him, a sheathed sword on her belt and a shield strapped to her back.

"What are you doing here?" He asked sternly, taking note of the sack that was also strapped to her back. Clearly she was going on a trip of sorts.

Viola looked at him, confused. "Farkas didn't tell me that part... but did he not tell you that I was going with you in his place?"

"You're _what?__" _The Nord's reaction was a little too harsh-his pent-up annoyance at his brother being let out. He felt slightly regretful when he saw the small woman jump with fright.

"He said that it would help me become a better warrior. That if I proved to myself I could fight, then I could fix my issues."

Vilkas regarded her words carefully. Farkas had his moments of wisdom for sure. Turning slightly, Vilkas gestured to a couple of horses that stood apart from the rest. "I've rented us horses. It'll be the fastest way to reach Markarth from here."

Viola only remembered passing through Markarth a few times during her travels. Each time, she got the feeling that there was something going on in that town made of stone.

"What is our mission?" she asked.

"We received an anonymous letter sending us to Markarth. Something about suspicious activity. It might be dangerous, in case you don't think you're up for the challenge."

Viola ignored the smug look on his face when he said that last part. "It sounds like the perfect opportunity to prove myself."

Vilkas, while impressed with her determination, was still concerned for her safety. He would have to be on his guard even more than usual in order to protect her.

Without another word, the two mounted their respective horses and set off for Markarth.

* * *

_I am soooo sorry for the delay sdlkjal;fd. Truth be told, I've been staring at this chapter for a while. I still don't know how I feel about it, haha. Hopefully the next chapter will be easier for me to write. Thank you for your patience! Until next time!_


	6. Chapter 6

_I do not own Skyrim, The Elder Scrolls, etc. etc. They are all property of Bethesda. c:_

* * *

For a long part of the journey, the two rode in complete silence; the only utterance of words being an announcement on a direction change from Vilkas.

While they were outside of city walls, Viola was still expected to carry herself with grace as she passed any travelers. The few passerby they encountered were met with a gracious smile from Viola, followed by an ugly scowl from Vilkas, who was growing increasingly annoyed with her behavior. After the fourth merchant caravan in the past hour, Vilkas had decided he had had enough as he stopped abruptly.

"What you are doing," the hardened Nord began, trying his best not to scare his companion, "is not how a warrior should behave."

Viola looked at him inquisitively. This was the first she had heard of her conduct being problematic. "The Jarl instructed me to always act this way. Even in combat, it was never a problem."

"It isn't a problem for _magicians_," he emphasized the derogatory term, "but for warriors, it's embarrassing. You have to look and act tough, which for you...will take a lot more effort."

Viola appeared more lost than ever. With a sign, Vilkas dismounted his horse and walked a few steps off of the road, beckoning her to join him. Setting his rucksack down, he turned around to face her. "Stand up tall and strong, now."

The blonde set her own rucksack to the ground before doing as she was told. Being a Breton, she was not gifted with height, and even her tallest stance made her look small in Vilkas's eyes. He approached her and took in her appearance, an unwavering glare on his features. "You look like a child," he criticized. "Give me your toughest look."

Again, Viola struggled with this. She had very delicate features-Not at all intimidating like Vilkas's. She furrowed her brows together as she tried to look angry. But she wasn't angry, and so she instead looked horribly confused.

Heaving a heavy sigh, the Nord circled her. She couldn't scare off a kitten, let alone any bandits. He debated whether this would be beneficial to her or not. If she looked threatening, people would be less likely to try and fight her. With how unassuming she looked, however, she could use it as an advantage. If he could get her at a proficient swordsmanship level, she could prove to be quite the wild card in a battle.

Vilkas decided to test something. He took a few steps away from her, going behind her and picking up a decent-sized rock from the ground. "Hey, Whelp," he called. The blonde shifted her gaze over to him in response. "Think fast."

Before she could ask what he meant, he had sent the rock flying towards her. As he perceived, her reflexes were much quicker than he first assumed, as she moved to the side to avoid getting hit in the face. Vilkas gave her a smile, confusing her even more.

"Do you realize what just happened, Whelp?"

Viola still looked puzzled. "You...tried to throw something at me?"

"Well, yes. But why didn't my attack hit?"

She was starting to catch on. "Perhaps my reflexes have improved. I just reacted on instinct."

"Exactly," Vilkas spun around, pitching another rock toward her. He was impressed when she caught it. "You reacted on instinct. But I believe your reflexes have always been this good."

Viola considered this for a moment, but then shook her head. "But the first time we sparred, I couldn't react in time to any of your movements."

"You were slowed down by a heavy blade and weak muscles. And you were not used to fighting up close and personal, you were unable to anticipate my attacks."

It was starting to make sense to her now. "So you're saying...that I'm fast?"

"It seems to be that way, yes."

"But I am not intimidating."

"Not in the slightest."

Viola seemed okay with this. She smiled, looking over at Vilkas.

Vilkas was not smiling. Was he mad at her for not being intimidating?

No... there was something about his expression in that moment. His eyes had widened slightly, and his arm twitched upward to grasp his sword.

Viola began to turn around, when she heard the cracking of air

_Woosh!_

She had barely ducked in time to avoid the giant's club.

* * *

As soon as she could, she ran over to Vilkas, who had his greatsword drawn at the large creature. Reflexively, Viola bent her arms to her side, channeling her magicka. A ball of fire began to form between her palms. She could feel the heat resonating through her hands when Vilkas swung an arm out in front of them. "No! No magic. You have to learn to fight with your blade!"

The fireball disappeared as she cancelled her magicka flow and reached for her sword and shield. Taking a deep breath in, she prepared herself.

Vilkas was the first to attack, swinging upwards at the giant. It had only grazed his knee slightly as he rose his foot up in an attempt to stomp on the Nord. The stomp was easily dodged, though, as he jumped backward in time.

"Come on," He called, turning back to face her. "Face it like a warrior!"

"R...Right...!" The Breton's voice was shakey, as were her legs, as she charged forward unreadily. She attempted to stab the giant in the shin, but he was already swinging his club toward her. Luckily, her reflexes kicked in, allowing her to dart out of the way in time. Having landed in a kneel, she jumped out toward the giant, swinging her blade.

She collided with something that sent her rolling to the ground.

Vilkas had pushed her out of the way, getting rammed with the wide end of the giant's club in the process. "Damn you," he cursed, his voice slightly tensed. He waited for a split second before swinging his blade over his head, landing a powerful slash to the giant's club arm.

The beast was taken aback by it and dropped his club. Viola saw her opportunity and she took it, charging forward and stabbing the beast in the shin. As the giant knelt down by reflex to grab his wounded shin, Vilkas delivered the finishing blow, stabbing his blade into the giant's face. The blow pushed the giant on his back as he gave out one low groan of pain before succumbing to his wounds.

Vilkas gritted his teeth as he stood up and started walking to his rucksack. Viola noticed a light limp in his step as she followed him.

He bent down, taking his map from his rucksack and unraveling it. He studied the scroll for a long time before speaking. "It seems we have wandered near the Sleeping Giant camp," he says evenly. "I don't know if he was the only giant around. I highly doubt it. Let's get what we can from his body and get out of here."

Viola nodded, and ran over to the oversized corpse. She had kept a dagger strapped to the leg of her armor, and she used it to gather from the giant his two big toes. Her face paled, a wave of illness washing over her upon taking in the giant's incredible stench. It was like spoiled mammoth cheese mixed with blood and fungus. She made haste of wrapping up the toes before she lost her composure, and her lunch.

* * *

As soon as she was finished, she headed over to where Vilkas was and mounted her horse as he handed her her rucksack. Once they were all packed up and mounted, they took off once again. And despite the events that had just occurred, they rode, once again, in silence. Though this time the silence seemed different. It wasn't until nightfall that the silence was broken again.

"I think we should set up camp for the night. We have a few hours before we'll reach anywhere with an inn."

Viola nodded meekly, realizing he was probably right. They headed toward a small clump of trees off of the main path. It hadn't taken them long to find a suitable spot, pinch the tent, and build a camp fire.

"I don't suppose you have a pot in that bag of yours, do you?"

Viola guessed that Vilkas was likely joking, but his eyes widened when she did indeed produce a large cooking pot from her bag. He opened his mouth to question when she spoke up. "Space management magic. I learned it from a traveling Dunmer. He claimed that the man who taught him the spell was able to shrink down a whole _house! _...But I don't know if that is true." She also pulled out a sack of vegetables and dried meats, handing it to Vilkas.

"I'm going to go fill this with water. I apologize, but do you think you could chop the vegetables?"

"Why don't I go fill up the pot? I'm stronger than you. You can barely carry it, empty!"

Viola smiled worriedly at him. "Just... don't worry. I have a spell for that."

She didn't have a spell for that. The truth was, she was worried about his limping from earlier. He hadn't brought it up, and she was sure he was trying not to worry her or make her feel guilty. After all, it was her foolish actions that led to him getting hit. It took her twenty minutes to fill up her pot and come back. By the time she returned, of course, Vilkas had already finished his task.

"Some spell that was," he scoffed. He helped her set the pot up over the fire and then she just stopped.

"What is it?"

The woman fidgeted nervously for a few moments before speaking. "Umm... do you know how to cook, by chance?"

Vilkas was dumbfounded. "You brought all of these cooking materials and you're telling me you can't cook?"

Viola's cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she smiled at the ground desperately. "I'm afraid so..."

"Feh. _Nobles,_" he grumbled, setting some of the vegetables in the pot as the water was brought to a boil. "They can boast about trivial things and they can't even cook a damn meal."

Viola's eyes burned into the ground. He was right. She had been taught all about etiquette and proper decorum, even how to play an instrument and sing, but she couldn't even cook, sew, or do anything remotely helpful. She caught a glance at the Nord, who looked down at her expectantly.

"Well come on, Noble. You can't learn by watching the ground. Come stir the stew."

As she stirred, he taught her about some of the basics of making a decent stew, mentioning that one must put the ingredients in at different times because they cook at different speeds. Viola was absolutely fascinated by this.

As they sat down with their bowls, Viola looked at him. "Where did you learn to cook like that?"

Vilkas swallowed his first bite, letting out a low hum of approval. "Kodlak taught me and my brother the basics of cooking when we were pups."

**_Pups. _**_Why did he keep saying that? _"So Farkas knows how to cook, too?"

"Aye. He's even better than I am, if you can imagine that."

Viola smiled, picturing the gruff Farkas in an apron, baking sweetrolls in an oven.

Vilkas proceeded to tell her stories of their first cooking lessons, when Vilkas mistook salt for sugar and he, Kodlak, and Farkas scrambled for water after tasting overly-salty pastries. "We all laughed really hard at that. Especially when Vignar devoured the rest!"

Viola, too, started to giggle at his anecdote, having pictured it perfectly in her mind. Suddenly, Vilkas winced again.

"You're hurt."

"It's just a little scratch," Vilkas brushed it off, scowling yet again.

Viola eyed him for a moment, processing his answer. "...No. Let me see it."

Vilkas's expression darkened. "I promise, it's fine."

Viola flashed him a stern look. "It might get infected. Please let me examine it."

Vilkas held her gaze for a moment. When she refused to back down, he sighed and took off his left boot. Just as he thoguht, the bottom of his boot had already filled with blood. There was a large gash on his shin, clearly made from a dent that was made in his boot by the giant's club.

Viola's brows knitted together in thought as she touched the gash, earning a sharp hiss from the Nord. "Watch it," he growled. "That hurts."

Quickly, the Breton went to her rucksack, pulling out a red glass bottle and a bandage roll. Having finished her stew, she filled it with the liquid and then soaked the bandages in them. After covering the majority of them, she brought it to Vilkas's wound as she began to wrap it.

Vilkas inhaled sharply, but Viola hushed him. "Don't worry, it's a healing salve. Made it myself."

Within a few seconds, the burning in his shin had stopped. The bandage felt cool against his hot skin, neutralizing it.

"It would heal quicker with magic," Viola offered, "But I didn't think you'd want that."

Vilkas looked off to the right. "I don't trust magic."

"Feh. _Nords._" Viola smiled as she attempted to bring back the humorous atmosphere. Understanding her motives, he smirked slightly.

She had wondered what made him so untrustworthy of magic and mages, but she felt like now was not the time to ask. Instead, she listened as he launched into his stories about the various giant encounters he's had over the years."

* * *

_OH GOD I'M SO SORRY. The truth is, I had this partially written when I got a tiiiiiiiiiiiiiny bit distracted with Phoenix Wright: Dual Destinies and Zero Escape: Virtue's Last Reward. Seriously if you follow those series you neeeeed to play those games. ANYWAY, I AM SORRY FOR THE EXTREMELY LATE UPDATE AND I HOPE I CAN MAKE IT UP TO YOU. [sobs]_


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